


Payment

by starry_eyes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, M/M, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, reader could be trans or cis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry_eyes/pseuds/starry_eyes
Summary: You're hopelessly lost, separated from your teammates, and Jesse McCree ends up giving you a helping hand.





	Payment

A mission with Overwatch had gone disastrously wrong; well, not as disastrously wrong as it could have. Your team had been ambushed by Talon members and you’d all been split up, your communication cut off, and had no way of regrouping. On the plus side, you weren’t dead, just aching.

You groaned as you sat up from a pile of rubble that had once been a house and rubbed your head. Your armour was falling apart and it looked how you felt. 

 

Eventually, you stumbled to your feet, coughing up rusty red blood and dusting yourself off. You started to make your way towards the nearest town, directed by smoke billowing from chimneys in the distance.

You weren’t sure how long you walked for until you hit civilisation but it felt like years. Your feet were likely covered in sores and blisters, though you didn’t want to take them off to check, in case they were too swollen to get back on again.

Strolling in through the seedy-looking backstreets of the village, you were met with a sorry sight; children dotted the sides of the road, looking forlorn and covered in dirt, and your ears were met with the sound of crying babies. You felt awful and wished you had something to give them. Maybe once you’d gotten in contact with your team, you could get them to bring supplies to the needy.

“Mister!” you heard a voice call out. You turned to the source of the sound but the child was not addressing you: he was speaking to an old man - maybe about 50 years old or so - with greying hair, small round spectacles, and a top hat. He had a disgusted expression on his face, as if being talked to by this poor homeless boy was ruining his appetite.

“What?” he snarled, a sneer plastering his face. The little boy was not deterred.

“Can you spare us anything? Anything at all?” He held his grubby hands out desperately, trying to grab the gentleman’s coat, and the man flinched away like he’d been stung.

“Hands off, kid. Don’t wanna touch what ya can’t afford.”

He swaggered away nonchalantly. The boy looked close to tears. You were appalled at what you had just witnessed and you walked over to the boy, placing a hand comfortingly on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to get help,” you promised him, then ruffled his hair and speed-walked after the man.

As you got closer to him, you realised that he was fully capable of giving the needy children at least a little money. The guy was minted! He had a golden belt buckle, spelling the acronym “GAMF” (Grandpa Ass Motherfucker? Greedy Ass Motherfucker? Probably the latter, after seeing the despicable way he’d just treated that little boy) and a well-tailored suit that wasn’t ideal for wandering the grimy streets of the town alone.

 

“Excuse me, Sir?” you called after the rich man. He turned abruptly and looked you up and down disapprovingly, which you didn’t appreciate. He said nothing and then kept walking at a brisk pace.

“Sir! I need help!” you cried, breaking into a run to catch up with him. Bastard may have been old, but he was definitely still active.

He let out a deep sigh that smelled like whiskey and tobacco, then turned to face you, eyeing you up like a piece of meat.

“I ain’t giving ya any money. Scram, brat.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and took off the remainder of your helmet, which was more use as scrap metal now.

“Sir, I’m…” you paused to try and think of a way to describe yourself without being carted off to prison and interrogated as a member of Overwatch. “I’m an army officer and I lost contact with my troops. I need your help - if you have a telephone, or something…” You trailed off as you noticed the incredulous look he was giving you. It was clear he didn’t believe you for a second, but he didn’t question it.

“Well,  _ officer, _ ” he drawled, sweet as sugar, a total change of tone from earlier, “I can definitely take you on back to my place and get you connected with your teammates,  _ and  _ get you patched up too. How’s that sound?”

You’re mildly taken aback by his sudden generosity, but you’re not exactly going to turn it down.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

 

He led you off past the heart of the city, towards a thick grove of trees with a path through the centre. In a clearing in the distance, you could make out the silhouette of a lavish mansion, which made you feel inferior in your dirty, worn-down armour. As you wandered up the path, you tried to make small talk with your new companion.

“So, what’s your name?” you asked, smiling up at him. You hadn’t realised how tall he was until you had started walking next to him - he must have been almost a foot taller than you.

“Name’s Jesse McCree. And you?” he replied in his thick Southern accent.

You introduced yourself properly with a handshake. He took your hand hesitantly, a smirk gracing his visage. He seemed awfully polite despite the day’s earlier events; you didn’t understand why he was helping you and not that little boy, but you didn’t dwell on it too much. Your team would come to get you soon and then you could help him, and not this seemingly-grouchy old man.

 

When you got into his mansion, you understood why he was helping you and not the homeless boy. You could give him what he wanted - or rather, he could take it from you.

After you had showered and been seen to with some antiseptic that stung like a bitch and dressed in clean clothes (some spare pajamas of McCree’s), you strolled to the phone; you were tantalisingly close when McCree stepped in front of it, blocking your view of freedom.

“Ah-ah. Y’ain’t leaving so soon.”

“Wh-what?” you stuttered in confusion. “You said I could use your phone. Please, Mr McCree, let me use it and I’ll get out of your hair. I won’t be any more trouble for you.”

He chuckled, sucking on the cigar hanging out of his mouth. He exhaled acrid smoke which made you cough and then, as quick as lightning, pinned you to the wall, smirking. His vice-like grip crushed your wrists as you struggled futilely against him.

“Well, sugar, I gave you something, now ya gotta pay it back…”

Your eyes widened in fear and you yelled, wishing someone would hear. You knew deep down that it was useless; you were in the middle of nowhere. It was unlikely anyone from the village would be wandering through the woods where McCree lived.

McCree just laughed, pushed a leg up between your thighs and stubbed his cigar out on an ash-tray on the table that housed the phone. It was so unbelievably close but you couldn’t get free from his grasp.

“Why don’t we take this to the bedroom?” he murmured, his voice dripping with lust. You could see the tent in his trousers was already wet with precum and you wondered if this had been his plan all along, to bring you back to his house and rape you. He’d obviously been looking forward to this.

You said nothing, biting your lip. This prompted Jesse to pull out a shotgun from a holster on his trousers and nudge you in the temple with it threateningly. The feeling of the cold metal against your skin made you feel sick and you knew that if you didn’t do as he said, you’d wind up with a bullet through your skull.

“O-Okay…” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pushed you in front of him, grabbed your wrists again, and pressed the gun up against the back of your head, directing you up the stairs and into his room. It was adorned with an odd mix of ornate paintings and cowboy paraphernalia; funny, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be into Westerns.

You didn’t have time to admire it before you were pushed down onto the bed, almost hitting your head on the wooden bedframe. McCree flipped you onto your back and let out an appreciative growl at the way you looked, then climbed on top of you. He gave you a warning glare and then placed the gun on the bedside table; you knew he was warning you to behave.

 

McCree slid your - his - t-shirt and trousers off of you and took a moment to take in the sight. He let out a low whistle, then began attacking your neck with hickies.

“I hope your teammates see these…” he growled, “and realise what a slut you are.”

You opened your mouth to protest but closed it again when you remembered the presence of the loaded gun.

Your neck began to bloom with love bites of an assortment of colours - red, purple, and blue - and you knew they wouldn’t be fading any time soon. A wince escaped your lips as he bit down and sucked a little too roughly and you felt him grin against your skin.

“Ya like that, don’tcha?” he whispered, making you shiver. He grabbed your hair and tugged when he didn’t receive an answer.

“Y-Yes! Yes, Jesse!” you cried, tears springing to your eyes. He smirked as he reached down and pinched and twisted your sensitive nipples, making you squeal in pain and writhe to try and get away from him, which only made it hurt worse.

“C’mon now, kitten, you don’t wanna struggle…” He purred it like it was dirty talk, but it was really a threat. You shuddered and let him play with you as he pleased so that he didn’t suddenly snap.

 

His hands danced over your skin, pinching and squeezing and stroking, trying to elicit lewd sounds from you and usually succeeding. It didn’t take much to get you hot and flustered, and in these circumstances, you hated it. You didn’t want him to think you were enjoying this. He shoved a calloused hand between your legs and flicked a finger over your clit. The lack of lube made you whine and squirm, so he dipped it into your dripping hole and then continued rubbing it. You let out a loud moan, which immediately made you turn red and his cock twitch.

“Making pretty noises for me, huh, darlin’?” he crooned, pushing a thick finger into you. You groaned and it almost could have been in agreement.  _ Almost. _ You refused to let yourself enjoy this.

That resolve was quickly broken when he inserted another one and started crooking them towards him, pushing against your sensitive spot, which made you cry out in pleasure. Sure, you didn’t want to be in the situation in the first place, but you supposed you’d best make the most of it. He pumped them in and out roughly and carelessly and you moaned again.

“Almost ready for my cock, aren’t ya?”

You nodded breathlessly, reaching to help him out of his underwear. The tip of his cock was ruddy and almost painfully desperate for release and was leaking copious amounts of precum. He was covered in a thick bush of hair and you spread your cunt for him, which was equally wet.

Eagerly, he guided his dick to your hole and thrust it in without waiting for you to adjust. He was bigger than you had anticipated, and you winced but sighed when the stinging sensation gave way to pleasure.

He leaned over you and crashed his lips against yours; you kissed him back hungrily, shoving your tongue into his mouth and gasping when he sucked on it. He didn’t bother to set a steady pace, just thrusted haphazardly in a way that suited him, which you didn’t mind. He grunted as you nipped at his hairy neck and you smiled slightly.

He spent the entire time muttering praise under his breath, breathing against your neck about how good your cunt was and how tight you were and how wet you were and how he needed you so fucking badly. The compliments made colour rise in your cheeks and you rolled your hips to meet with his. The room was filled with the erotic sound of flesh on soft flesh and breathless moans and groans.

After a couple of minutes of him jack-hammer fucking you like a bunny, he suddenly gave a loud grunt and almost froze completely, save for his hips twitching and his cock throbbing as he pumped you full of his cum. You moaned and your eyes rolled back as he moved his hand to your clit, rubbing it until you came as well. You were both utterly spent.

 

You thought about your teammates as you drifted off to sleep, but supposed they could wait.


End file.
